Changes Us
by Erika
Summary: Every experience in Sirius' life has helped to change him. Even the worst of his mistakes have had some positive effect on his life, including his thoughtless betrayal of one of his closest friends. Sixth in the 'Absolution' series.


**Title:** Changes Us

**Author:** Erika

**Rating:** PG

**Summary:** Every experience in Sirius' life, every mistake that he has made, has helped to change him. Even the worst of his experiences, even the worst of his mistakes, have had some positive effect on his life, including his suffocating family situation and his thoughtless betrayal of one of his closest friends.

**Timeframe:** Remus, Sirius, James, and Peter are going to be seventh-years.

**Spoilers:** For PoA

**Category:** Angst, POV

**Disclaimers:** Hogwarts and all of its characters belong to JK Rowling, I'm only borrowing them to have a little fun and I promise to return them unharmed (well, at least mostly unharmed). I'm making no money from this and this is written for entertainment purposes only.

**Feedback:** Both positive feedback and _constructive_ criticism are greatly appreciated and will be cherished!

**Archive:** Please ask first.

**Author's Note: **This is the _final_ story in my impromptu series that began with "Absolution." It might seem completely unrelated but I promise that it does tie in at the end. It might take seven or eight pages to even mention the Prank, but it does, eventually. I promise.

**

Changes Us

**

**Sirius:**

"Damn it!" I shouted, slamming my fist against the wall so hard that a spasm of pain stiffened my arm. Damn it. Damn it. _Damn it_. I hated it. I hated them. I hated _her_. I hated that she could make me so _angry_. I hated that she could always coerce me into an argument. I hated that I _cared_. I just…hated it.

Heedless of the pain, I struck the wall again. I wanted to break something. I wanted to hit and beat something until this thrumming energy, this pent up anger, drained from my too-tense body.

Something close to a growl tickled the back of my throat. Spinning, I crossed the length of the room and grabbed a pillow from the sofa. Thoughtlessly, I hurled it across the room. It landed silently on the tiled floor, missing, by mere inches, the small lamp that stood on my coffee table. I felt vaguely disappointed. It would have been satisfying, somehow, to hear it shatter, to litter the floor with dangerous shards of glass.

She didn't have the right to talk about James and Remus that way! And what she had said about the future… "_Potter will lie dead at our feet and that Mudblood pet of yours will be food for the Dementors. Best be careful, Sirius, or you'll wind up with one of them." _It had chilled me. Her words were more than a threat, they were spoken with the clear, clinical preciseness of undeniable certainty.

I couldn't remember my retort. It had been loud, harsh, nearly explosive. Fear and rage had fed off of each other to practically overwhelm me. If anyone deserved death or the Kiss, it was her! Not James, not Remus. _I_ would die before I let anything happen to them, before I let my mother and those like her do anything _to_ them. I had probably said as much, in vehement half sentences that made up for in anger what they lacked in eloquence.

She had skillfully ignored my feverish responses in favor of calmly looking over the single sheet of paper that rested on the kitchen table. "_You're more like us than you think, Sirius _Black,_"_ she had said, Apparating away before I could hurl a counterattack at her, leaving her final words lingering in my mind. "_You're more like us than you think, Sirius _Black._"_

My eyes now fell to the same sheet of paper that had spurred her comment.

Sirius _Black_. There it was, lettered neatly across the contract that leased this flat to me. _Black_, the name that bound me to _them_, to my _family_, to my _mother_. I didn't want to be 'Sirius Black'. I wanted to be Sirius…just Sirius. Because I _wasn't_ a Black. I hadn't been a Black for years. Not since Hogwarts. No, before Hogwarts. I hadn't been a Black since the arguments, the constant battles between my mother and me. When had that started?

I wanted to believe that I was intrinsically different than them, that everything they had ever taught me – the bigotry and hatred – had always struck me as vile and _wrong_. I desperately wanted to believe that. But I would gain nothing from lying to myself.

No. It had started with James. Before James, I had been well on my way to becoming a Black. I had believed and followed my parents, as any small child would. Our friendship had changed everything, had changed _me_.

It wasn't that he had tried to open my eyes or that his parents – his wonderful parents – had taken it upon themselves to correct my prejudiced beliefs. I doubted that would have been possible without some initiative on my part. After all, the things we are taught as a child become deeply ingrained in our minds. It was more a _reaction_ to James – my own, and my parents'.

They were furious when they discovered who I had been spending time with at school. At first I hadn't understood why. James was brilliant. Who would ever dislike James? It wasn't James though – it was his parents, known supporters of everything they despised. I remembered being appalled. After all, I was only six years old and it hadn't yet occurred to me to doubt my parents. How could _James_ be one of _them_? How could _James_ be so deluded as to think 'Mudbloods' and 'halfbreeds' were on the same level as purebloods? What was wrong with him?

What was wrong with him?

The very next day at school, something happened that helped me to change my mind. At break, a young boy known to have been Muggle-born was surrounded by a group of older kids. With just about the entire school watching and cheering them on, they had tormented the boy to the point of blood and tears. James had been the only one to jump to his defense. Even severely, ridiculously outnumbered, he had demanded the older kids 'bugger off.' If a professor hadn't shown up at that precise moment, James would have wound up in the nurse's office along with the boy.

Walking home, I hadn't known what to think. The boy had only been a Muggle-born – not worthy of my regard – but when I thought of the blood and grime that had marred his face, I couldn't help but feel sorry for him. When I thought of how James had stood up for him, I couldn't help but feel awed. When I thought of how I hadn't, I couldn't help but feel ashamed.

Almost too preoccupied to notice, I had nearly missed the distressed sounds of someone crying – a boy no older than five. Perhaps because I was grateful for the distraction, I had stopped too see what was wrong. I held no delusions about my decision to do that. It certainly hadn't been from the goodness of my heart.

Regardless of my reasons, we had talked for a bit after I managed to cheer him up and I rather took a liking to him. Eventually, he – Josh – had confessed to being afraid of starting school the following year. He and his mother had had to come early that day to pick up his older brother from the nurse's office. He had been beat up for being a halfbood. Josh had been crying for the fear that the same thing would happen to him.

I had been too shocked to say anything. How could it be possible? He was so nice, how could he be a…'Mudblood'? Too confused too and young to have a proper reaction, I had turned and sprinted all the way home. Shutting myself in my room, I had desperately tried to sort things out in my mind.

Before I could make any sense of what had happened, my mother had come swooping in, even more enraged than she had been the previous night. She had heard about the 'incident' at school and was dismayed by the possibility of James negatively influencing me with his misplaced beliefs. Of course she put it a great deal more acridly than that and used language that was much more vivid. In the end she forbade me from hanging out with him.

I couldn't say what, exactly, changed but something had. At that moment – at that precise moment – I had stopped asking what was wrong with James and started asking what was wrong with my family. What would she have had me do? Join the attackers? Wound and possibly kill a boy who was outnumbered and…_innocent_? Because he _was_ innocent. Suddenly, I knew that. I _felt_ it. What was wrong with her?

What was wrong with her?

I still didn't know.

It was then that the arguments had started. First, they had been about James. As I'd grown older though, and found myself disagreeing with more and more of my parents' beliefs, they'd escalated. I couldn't seem to be in the same room with either one of them without learning something else to be disgusted by. So we fought. Constantly. About anything and everything. I wanted to stop but I couldn't help it. When they said something snide or hateful, I couldn't keep my mouth shut.

It'd gotten drastically worse in the last couple of years. That was why I had essentially moved into James' house. That was why I now had my own flat. I simply had to stay away from them. I couldn't stand to hear anymore deprecating remarks about James and Remus or about how, despite my best attempts, I was, in the end, one of them. A Black.

"_You're more like us than you think, Sirius _Black._"_

No, I wasn't. She was wrong. I knew just how like them I was and I hated it. I had a dangerously quick temper, just like my mother. I had an inability to think my actions through, just like my father. How else could I explain the Prank? How else could I explain how I had nearly destroyed one of the most important relationships in my life? No, I wasn't one of them but I was more like them than I would ever admit to anyone, even James and Remus.

James and Remus…

"_Potter will lie dead at our feet and that Mudblood pet of yours will be food for the Dementors. Best be careful, Sirius, or you'll wind up with one of them."_

Every time those words filtered through my mind, my blood boiled. Damn it. How could I be anything like her? I hated her. I hated her so much. I wanted to rip out of myself the part that had been influenced by my parents, the wild, dark, untamed part. The Black part.

Sighing, I grabbed my jacket from off of the couch and hastily left my flat. My thoughts weren't helping. If I didn't do something to distract myself I'd spend the entire day contemplating her words, feeling my anger return full-force every time I heard her cool voice in my head. I had already wasted enough of my time on her. She wasn't worth it.

* * *

"Why, Sirius, we weren't expecting to see you today," James' mum greeted me with a surprised smile. 

I wasn't sure what to say. I didn't want to explain what had happened between my mother and me. Fortunately, she saved me the trouble of responding. "Jamie says you're not coming with us to New York, I do hope something bad hasn't come up."

Bad? No, not in the sense that she meant. Nothing bad had come up for _me_. Something _horrible_ had 'come up' for one of my friends. The full moon was tomorrow night. "No, nothing bad," I lied, "just a prior commitment to another friend."

She nodded, "Well, we'll miss you. Especially Jamie."

Yeah, James had expressed his disappointment. He had repeatedly tried to convince me that I could still go to New York with them. All I had to do was invent some reason to Apparate back home for a night. He didn't understand why I refused, partly because of my own inability to explain. I just… I didn't want Remus to think that he was something I had to 'fit in' between more important things. I didn't want him to think that going on vacation with James meant more than making his repeated hell more bearable.

"Sirius?" James' mum reached forward to touch my shoulder. "Are you all right, dear?"

Shrugging, I shook my head.

Silently, she urged me to follow her into the living room. "What happened?" she asked gently.

"It was my mother," the words spilled out before I could stop them. "She came to my flat… She–" "_Potter will lie dead at our feet and that Mudblood pet of yours will be food for the Dementors. Best be careful, Sirius, or you'll wind up with one of them." _ My tone turned hard and bitter, "She said that… She said– I can't–"

My incoherent words were cut short by James' mum suddenly moving forward to hug me. At first, surprised, I stiffened. Almost immediately, though, I gave into my need for comfort and leaned into her, shaking minutely.

One of her hands stroked my hair a couple of times before coming to rest on my nape. She didn't say anything, not a single word. She just held me. That was all. She just _held me_ and I was…overcome. Overcome by simple, physical affection.

A memory of something I had nearly forgotten returned to me. The first time I had lied to my parents and spent the night at James' home. It was so different than my own. The atmosphere was open. At home, everything was thick with my parents' bigotry, with their disapproval and practiced aloofness. James' parents were so accepting and it struck me. The thing that struck me the most was how his mum had hugged and kissed him goodnight. My mother had _never_ done anything of the sort. Imagine, a child not knowing physical affection.

Affection. His mum _cared_ about me – loved me, even – when my own parents did not. How was that possible? I didn't understand. How could my parents care more for judging and ridiculing others than for their own son? Why did they care more for molding me into a perfect replica of themselves than they did for _me_?

"Sirius?"

My eyes focused on the source of the voice. James. He was standing at the foot of the stairs, staring at me with obvious concern. How long he'd been there, I didn't know. I wasn't ashamed though. I wasn't ashamed of him seeing his mum holding me, as I normally would have been. Instead, all I could feel was sadness, a sadness so overwhelming it displaced even my anger.

I didn't have a family. For the first time, it hit me. Before, always, I had been too concerned with how much I disliked them, how much I wanted to distance myself from them, to really consider it. But now I couldn't deny it. I didn't have a family. Not in the way James did. I had people that would sooner see me dead than spending time with a werewolf. James had people who loved him. I had anger and disapproval. No, I didn't have _parents_, not really.

And until now I had never realized how much I had missed them.

On one hand, I never wanted to see my family again. They infuriated me. On the other, I _needed_ them. I needed what family was _supposed_ to be. The closeness, the feeling of unity, the love, the certainty that they would always be there…all the things I had never had.

It wasn't fair. What had I done to deserve growing up so completely alienated from the people I was supposed to love unconditionally, the people who where supposed to love _me_ unconditionally?

"Sirius?"

This time his voice jarred me back to reality. Abruptly, I shrugged out of the embrace and backed towards the front door. I couldn't be here. I just _couldn't be here_, not in a place that reminded me of everything I had never had. Not in a place where two people completely unrelated to me loved me as my own parents should have but didn't.

I wanted to say something, wanted to give them a reason not to worry about me, but I couldn't. So I just left. One moment, I was standing near the door, the next I was…I didn't know where I was. I had Apparated without meaning to. Now I found myself on the edge of a small cliff that overlooked the ocean, the wind blowing so strongly against me that my hair fluttered noiselessly about my face, half obscuring my vision. Perhaps some two hundred feet below me, grayish-blue water repeatedly crashed into jagged formations of rock. The sound of the advancing and retreating waves formed a dull roar in my ears.

James had once shared one of his first memories with me. He had been very young and had fallen from a tree and broken his arm. He could remember being utterly terrified for a few interminable moments but then, drawn by the sound of his wails, he had seen his mum running towards him from across the yard and his fear had disappeared. He had known that she would take care of him and that he would be all right.

I had no such memories. None. At all. My first memory was of my mother screaming about something I didn't understand, probably how the Wizarding World was rapidly being overrun by sentimental fools who would surely ruin everything of value. I had been frightened by her anger and had spent most of the night hiding under a staircase. Even when it had been still and quiet for hours, I hadn't dared leave the shadowed niche.

My little brother was the only reason my life at home wasn't a complete pit of bad memories. Only two years younger than me, he and I had been very close as little children. There had always been something different about him, though, something…colder. While I had hid from our mother's ranting, he had paid rapt attention. While I had been distressed by our parents' frequent absences – they had…business to take care of – he hadn't seemed to mind.

Once, when they had returned from a particularly long trip, I had been excited enough to constantly hover around them for hours on end. Eventually, they had proposed we play hide-and-seek. Thrilled, I had gone into another room and counted to one hundred before beginning my search of our rather large house. At first I had been elated, happily examining the closets and other possible hiding places of each room. Then, as more and more time had passed with no sign of either one of them, a desperate franticness had grown within me. Terrified, I had searched and re-searched every room in the house. They – along with my brother – were nowhere to be found.

Unable to grasp what had happened, I had retreated to my hiding place under the stairs and stayed there for hours, horrified by the thought that I would never see my family again. Then, when late night had been turning to early morning, I had heard the creak of the door and the patter of footsteps. Soft whispers had become distinguishable voices as they approached the stairs. It was my parents! Relieved beyond anyone's ability to describe, I had nearly run out to greet them. My father's next quiet inquiry had stopped me. He had asked my mother how long she supposed I had looked for them before realizing they had left.

A few weeks later I had started school and met James. In the months that followed, everything had fallen apart for me at home. Except for my brother. We remained very close for nearly another two years. It wasn't until later that I lost him. Or perhaps it wasn't until later that I realized. For, if I had been paying attention I would have noticed the growing disdain in his eyes as he watched me constantly argue with our parents. I would have noticed that he never defended me, never took my side.

No, I hadn't noticed any of that until after the event that formed one of my most chilling memories occurred. When I had been eight years old, a Muggle-born witch had been convicted of murdering five young children. However, using a wand that a family member smuggled in to her, she had escaped on route to Azkaban. It had taken them nearly six months to find and recapture her, at which time her sentence had been increased from a life term to immediate execution.

My parents had rejoiced not because a dangerous criminal had been taken into custody but because a 'Mudblood' was being dealt the fate that all 'Mudbloods' deserved. That wasn't what made the memory chilling, though. They had actually attended her execution. And, what was infinitely worse, they had nearly dragged me along with them. If I hadn't hidden at James', they would have taken me to see someone be killed. They _had_ taken my brother. They had actually taken him to see someone die. At the age of six.

I could remember being entirely disillusioned with my brother. He hadn't even protested! He had just calmly gone with them! I had tried to tell myself that he was too young, that he simply didn't understand, but never managed to convince myself that he hadn't _wanted_ to see the woman put to death. My disillusionment had only grown. What I hadn't realized was that he had been equally disillusioned with me.

The following week, at school, James and I had approached him and his group of friends. I had wanted to remind him that I wouldn't be walking home with him because of a field trip my class was taking to the Ministry of Magic. Looking annoyed, he had told me to stay away from him. He wanted nothing to do with me and my 'Mudblood-loving friend.'

Those few words, spoken so viciously in my beloved brother's voice, had struck me as hard as any of the things my mother and father had said or done to me. They had hurt me more than being abandoned during a game of hide-and-seek my parents had never meant to play. They had saddened me more than having to run off to James' to avoid seeing an execution. They had stayed with me longer than any of the things my mother had ever yelled at me during one of our shouting matches. I doubted I would ever forget them or the tone they were spat in.

After that, my life at home had truly been miserable. My mother and father had gone out of their way to make it that way, frequently saying or doing things they knew I hated just to provoke and then discipline me. It would be no exaggeration to say that I had spent half of the next few years locked in my room for not showing my parents the proper respect and for daring to believe differently than they did.

Things had improved when I came to Hogwarts. There, at least for most of the year, I could forget my hellish family life and concentrate instead on my brilliant friends and all the pranks we could pull together. The summers at home had been made survivable only due to the knowledge that I would soon be leaving my family behind and rejoining my best mates.

Two years after me, my brother had also been accepted to Hogwarts. Things hadn't been as easy for me then. Even though he had been sorted into Slytherin, I still saw him quite often. We did not share any classes but we had our meals in the same place and it was inevitable that we would run into each other both inside and outside the walls of the castle. He never said anything to me. Not a word. That was what made things so difficult, the way he ignored me as if I was unworthy of sharing his blood. It was as if we weren't brothers. It was as if we were strangers.

At the end of the term we would exit the train separately and join our parents. They would always great him enthusiastically and inquire how his exams had gone. They would never say a word to me until after we arrived at our home. In fact, I had come to believe that they were only so friendly and "loving" with Regulus to remind _me_ of how much I had disappointed them, how much they despised me.

No, I had no pleasant memories of my parents. Not one.

After all, how could I have pleasant memories of the people that were supposed to love me and yet didn't?

My parents didn't love me. I doubted they ever had.

Feeling the energy seep from my body, I wrapped my coat more tightly around myself and sat with my legs dangling over the edge of the precipice, staring blankly into the water below.

For perhaps the second time in my life I was utterly lost. Only this time I wasn't overcome by guilt and revulsion at having so unforgivably betrayed a close friend. This time there was no self-recrimination or despair. Instead, there was numbness. Complete numbness. I just…_sat_ there, unthinking and unfeeling, for _hours_, and it wasn't until the sun hung low in the crimson stained sky that I even _realized_ it had been hours.

Fear replaced the nothingness that had dwelled inside me. For reasons I couldn't even fathom, the idea of losing so much time terrified me. How was it possible to not feel? To not think? With sleep, at least, there came dreams. Even if I forgot them by morning, I knew they had been there, somewhere, however fleeting, in my mind. To not have _any_ specific or vague memory of the last hours was like…_not being_. I might as well have not been alive.

Standing, I Apparated again. This time I ended up in Remus' room.

His desk was illuminated by candlelight and a large book lay across its surface, open nearly to the halfway point. The covers and sheets on his bed were folded back, as if he was prepared to go to sleep as soon as he finished reading. Remus, however, was no here. His room was silent, the door only two inches away from being completely shut.

For a moment, I considered leaving. What would he think upon returning to his room to find me here? Uninvited and in such an obviously…disturbed state? Why was I even here? Because I needed to be with a friend? Because I couldn't stand to be alone after feeling such…emptiness? Whatever the reason, it wasn't fair to Remus for me to seek him out for reassurance when our friendship was only now returning to what it had once been. Perhaps, before the Prank I wouldn't have paused but now…I couldn't help but feel that I was imposing.

James. Why didn't I go back to James'? My poor friend was probably worried out of his wits. He would want to know what had happened and if I was all right. I needed to go back and at least try and assure him that I wasn't off my rocker. I just… James was a brilliant best mate but… I couldn't go to him now. He wouldn't understand. He just wouldn't know–

The door to Remus' room opened with only the quietest whisper but it broke the silence with enough warning for me to turn around and face my friend as he entered. Well. That was that. The decision had been made for me. I couldn't leave now. At least not if I didn't want to worry Moony half out of his mind along with James.

Gaze turned downward, my friend did not immediately see me. It wasn't until he had crossed half of the distance between the door and his desk that he noticed my unmoving shadow spread across the floor and came to a complete and abrupt stop. Raising his head, he looked at me with alarmed eyes. Almost immediately, the fear faded into surprise and then confusion. Nonplussed, he stared at me from across the room.

It took only a few more moments for his bewilderment to give way to palpable concern. Stepping forward, he opened his mouth to ask the obvious – _what's wrong? _– but, perhaps seeing a quiet desperation in my eyes, left the question unspoken. Instead, he waited, and as the silence stretched from seconds to minutes, I realized I had no idea what to say to him or how to explain why I was so…out of sorts.

I _had_ to explain. I couldn't just show up here and stand in silence. We couldn't just stand here in silence.

Shaking my head very slightly, I was about to open my mouth and say something – _anything _–to Remus when I saw the curious, compassionate worry in his eyes and realized that I didn't have to. I didn't have to say anything if I didn't want to. It wasn't that Remus didn't want to know what had happened, it was that he didn't _have_ to know. And that was why I was here instead of at James'. James would have done his best to help me feel better, but only after I had told him exactly what had happened. He just wouldn't have been able to stand the silence. And I needed that. I needed to just be with someone and not have to tell them what was wrong. I just needed someone to be with me, right now. For some reason, it didn't even embarrass me.

Relieved of that pressure, I let my eyes wander the small room. Above Remus' bed was a board with pictures tacked onto it in the Muggle fashion. They were mostly of Remus and his mum. His dad – the heartless bastard – had never come to terms with having a werewolf for a son. He'd hardly have anything to do with Moony. Remus and his mum were very close, though. It was so obvious in each and every picture. They were always hugging or laughing or both.

Sighing, I turned and sat down on his bed. With my head in my hands, I tried to block those images from my mind but it was useless. Did I even have any pictures of me, my brother, and parents? I doubted it. Preserving special occasions just wasn't something we did. Of course, _having_ special occasions wasn't something we did either.

The touch of fingers against my head startled me. Jumping slightly, I looked up to see Remus crouching before me. His eyes were apologetic and a sad half smile touched his lips. Our gazes locked for a moment but then I noticed that he was holding something out to me and I lowered my eyes to see what it was.

A towel?

Frowning, I took it. Why was he…?

Then I realized. I was wet. Not soaking, but wet enough for my hair to be sticking to my face. When had I gotten wet? I…didn't know. I couldn't remember. Up on that cliff, it must have rained. It had to have rained. And I hadn't even realized. I hadn't even noticed.

Scrambling to my feet, I stepped past Remus and walked until I reached the opposite wall. Then I turned and walked back to the bed. Shaking, I continued to pace back and forth as Remus wordlessly watched.

What was wrong with me? Sitting thoughtlessly for hours on end wasn't me. It just wasn't me. I was always active, always doing something. Or even if I wasn't, I was always itching to do something. I couldn't sit still and wait. With effort, I could sit still and study but I couldn't sit still and wait.

So how could I have lost myself for hours, not thinking, not realizing how long it had been, not feeling the cold rain against me? What was _wrong with me_? Arguing with my mother had never done this to me before. Why had it now? _Why_? My rage had always faded to the point where I could suppress it and think about something – anything – else. Today, it had consumed me. Completely. Until there had been nothing left. Not even the anger that had sparked my descent. Why?

Frustrated, I blindly threw the towel away from me, not even bothering to follow its flight when I heard a crash and the sound of something breaking.

Why did she have so much power over me? It terrified me to know that _anyone_ could affect me so profoundly. _Especially_ her. Someone I wanted to distance myself from so completely.

Coming to a slow stop, my eyes flickered back to Remus' pictures. It was because I cared. Despite everything, I cared. I cared about whether my father, mother, and brother loved me. I cared about whether they despised me. Why though? My God, _why_ did I have to care? _I_ didn't love _them_. So what did it matter if it was mutual?

Because it wasn't natural. It wasn't natural to not have a family.

Things weren't supposed to be this way. They just weren't.

"I think that anger and sadness – maybe even despair – are better than emptiness because at least you know you're alive." I spoke with my back facing Remus, in a tone so low and so entrenched with weary sadness that I didn't even recognize it as my own. It wasn't enough though, not nearly enough to describe what I was feeling. And it wasn't entirely accurate either.

The fact that my mother had been able to do that to me – make me lose myself – _was_ worse than all the anger and bitterness she had caused me to feel over the years. But that statement – that brief string of words – didn't do it justice. Nor did it touch on my grief over not having a family. It was all I could say, though. It was all I could trust myself to say. If I tried to explain, if I said anything more, I would… I wasn't sure what I would do, but it wasn't something I wanted Remus to see. Even if I hadn't been strangled by pride and thoughts of possible embarrassment, I wasn't sure I _could_ explain.

Remus didn't respond and that was all right. He didn't have to. He was here. Listening. Watching. Being with me. And it was enough. It was more than enough.

I shifted to face Moony. He was watching me, just as I had known he would be. There was a slight furrow in his forehead, just between his eyebrows, but the depth of his concern was betrayed by his eyes. They spoke volumes and I suddenly felt guilty for doing this to him, making him worry so much. Here I was, disturbed, upset, and uncharacteristically quiet, my only words no doubt understandable but cryptic.

I had also broken something. What had it been? Remus was holding the towel again. It was hard to tell in the dim lighting but it seemed to be stained slightly…green. My eyes quickly scanned the room. On the edge of his desk there was a pool of water that had mostly spilled onto the carpet below. Shards of glass also decorated the old wood and rug, along with an array of flowers that lay in a disheveled heap on the floor, with a stray petal or stem lingering on the desk.

A vase. His mum's, no doubt. According to Remus, she had at least one vase of flowers in every room of the house. Hopefully this one hadn't been valuable, especially since his family was so poor. If I had managed to destroy a family heirloom…

Wetting my dry lips with the tip of my tongue, I prepared to apologize but Remus cut me off with a shake of his head and a wave of his hand. It was his way of silently telling me that it was all right, that I didn't have to say I was sorry.

Nodding slightly, I tried to smile. I failed miserably but, if nothing else, Remus would at least see the attempt. Maybe it would reassure him a little.

Sighing again, I returned to sitting on Remus' bed. Unable to help myself, I examined his board of pictures yet again. In them, Remus ranged from being a baby to a teenager. There were some that had been taken at Hogwarts at various points in the last six years. There were several of the Marauders, a couple of James and me, even some of him and me, including one that seemed very recent.

In fact, it had been taken by James no more than week before classes ended for the summer. Remus and I had been sitting on his bed, studying for our final exams with a pile of books and papers surrounding us. Remus had just said something hysterical – I couldn't remember what – and Prongs had managed to capture the exact moments in which the two of us had erupted in laughter.

I smiled. He must have asked James for a copy of the picture. I didn't have one. The thought of Remus getting a hold of and displaying it with the other images of his family and friends almost made me want to grin. It was the only post-Prank picture he had up on the board but it was _there_ and somehow seeing it made me realize something with an almost profound certainty.

_He trusted me_ again._ We had finally put the Prank behind us._ It was interesting, the suddenness with which I realized something that had been happening so gradually for so many months. In the beginning it had been horrible. He had barely spoken to me, barely stayed in the same room as me. Then, after I had realized the extent of my betrayal, things had started to improve. He had forgiven me. It had taken a lot longer for me to forgive myself. I couldn't even say when it had happened but it had. It _had_ happened. Just as somehow – somewhere along the line – the breach between us had finally been sealed.

Feeling some of my depression lift, I relaxed and examined the pictures of Moony and his mum again. This time it wasn't as hard. This time I didn't feel quite so sad. Remus trusted me again and that made everything else seem less horrible. At least for now. Remus trusted me again! I had wanted this for so long that despite everything that had happened to me today it lightened my mood. This moment didn't feel anything like I had thought it would, though. I had thought I would want to shout my joy to the entire city and give the Muggles a good fright by riding my broom over their roofs while doing it. My relief and happiness was much more quiet and peaceful than I had ever imagined it would be.

It was wonderful, though. It was wonderful to find some good in such a rotten day.

My eyes were momentarily drawn away from the board of pictures by the quiet sounds of Remus cleaning up the mess I had made of his desk. When I looked back I noticed something that had somehow always managed to escape me before. _My family_. That's what was written on a piece of parchment that had been cut to fit in a neat, narrow strip across the top of the board. _My family_. Not _My family and friends_. Just _My family._ His family included James, Peter, and me. _His family included James, Peter, and me_.

His _family_ included _James, Peter, and me_.

I was a daft bastard. I had been bemoaning my lack of a family without realizing that I had one. A good family. The best of families. My friends. My friends who I would die for. My friends who would die for me. James, the best of mates. Remus, who I had become an Animagus for. And Peter, who I gave far too little credit. I loved them all. I had never said the words and doubted I ever would, but they were true.

James, Remus, and Peter were my family. After all, who had taken turns telling me funny stories to distract me from the pain when a potion had exploded in my face and temporarily blinded me? They had. Who had stayed with me for the four hours it had taken Snape's hex to wear off, the one that had made me vomit every five minutes? They had. Who had specifically let themselves get caught in the middle of a prank just so that I wouldn't have to spend my eight-hour detention with McGonagall alone? They had. Who had done any number of kind, loyal, and stupid things for me over the last six years? They had.

They were the people that mattered in my life. And if my parents didn't love me, that was all right. Well…not all right but at least manageable, at least bearable. More than bearable. James' parents had shown me a glimpse of a normal life. I had a family. I had James. I had Remus. And I _did_ have Remus. Things were finally okay between us. _Things were finally okay between us_.

Shaking my head, I jumped to my feet and moved to help Moony, who was cautiously picking up the shards of glass and tossing them into his wastebasket. Crouching on the floor next to him, I collected the flowers and all the leaves that had broken off of them.

"We're not underage Wizards anymore," I reminded him lightly, "We won't get expelled for using a cleaning charm."

My friend shrugged and I smiled sadly. Remus had these peculiar phases where he preferred to do things the Muggle way. He said it was lazy to always rely on magic but I had the depressing feeling that it was a precaution, just in case the Ministry banned werewolves from practicing magic of any kind.

When we finished cleaning up all but the smallest pieces of broken glass, Remus took the trashcan and quietly left the room. When he returned a few minutes later I expected to see him hauling the Muggle contraption called a 'vacuum cleaner' behind him but instead he was holding two steaming mugs. Probably tea or hot chocolate. Considering that the full moon was tomorrow night, it was most likely the latter.

Moony silently offered me one of the mugs. Smiling, I took it and peered inside. Hot chocolate. Gratefully, I sat back down on his bed and sipped the warm liquid. Remus took a seat at his desk, careful not to step on the area where the vase had shattered. We drank our hot chocolate without speaking. It wasn't until I had drained the last drop of it from my mug that I bothered to glance at the time.

Damn! It was past one in the morning!

Hastily, I stood up and handed Remus the empty mug. "I'm sorry, Moony," I apologized quickly, "I didn't mean to stay so late. I know you need to rest before the full moon. I'll go so that you can sleep."

"You know that you can stay as long as you need to," he murmured quietly, setting my mug down next to his.

They were the first words he had spoken all night and I smiled at his generosity. "No, Remus. I've imposed longer than I should have. Your transformations are difficult enough on a full night's rest. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Sirius," he replied kindly.

Catching his eyes with mine, I whispered a fierce, "Thank you. Thank you for…" 'Everything' didn't seem to cover it. He hadn't asked. He had never once asked what was wrong, had never once asked me to explain what had happened. He had just accepted that I needed his company and left it at that.

"You're welcome," he interjected, letting me know I didn't have to specify, that I didn't even have to thank him.

"Thank you," I repeated firmly, only breaking eye contact to picture my small but treasured flat and Apparate home.

* * *

Sincerely hoping that Remus' dad wouldn't answer, I knocked loudly on the door to the Lupins' small and old-looking house. I only had to wait a few moments for the door to swing open and was relieved to see my friend standing on the other side of it. 

"I thought I'd try something a little more polite than just showing up in your room with no warning," I said by way of greeting, smiling a little.

"Sirius!" he exclaimed, clearly surprised to see me, more surprised than he had been last night. "Why aren't you in New York with James and his family?"

I was slightly taken aback. Did he truly think so little of himself that he had to ask? Even after all these years? "I gave Peter my spot."

He frowned. "But you've been so excited. You haven't been able to stop talking about it since they invited you… It was getting a bit annoying, really."

He was right. I _had_ been excited when Prongs had asked me to go with his family for a two-week vacation in New York. For months, he and I had been planning exactly what we were going to do. It hadn't been until just after the last full moon that I realized that this full moon coincided with the first day of our trip.

At first I had determined to simply join them the morning after but the more I had thought about it the less right it had seemed to just rush off and leave Remus on the day when he'd be the most exhausted and depressed. So then I had decided to go the day after that. Only after a while that hadn't seemed right either. It would still seem like I was just fulfilling an obligation until I could go and join my best mate for fun in the States. Finally, I had decided to stay behind. I couldn't lie and say that I hadn't been disappointed, that I wasn't still. What I could say honestly was that Remus was more important.

"Why would you have Peter go in your place?" he cut into my thoughts with another quiet, confused question.

I shrugged. "Tonight's the full moon," I responded simply.

The slightest of smiles flickered across his lips and his eyes shone. For a few moments he didn't speak but even when he did, the small quaver in his voice told of the depth of his gratitude. "My parents are out. I was about to have lunch. If you haven't eaten, or even if you have," he grinned, "you're more than welcome to join me."

I _hadn't_ in fact eaten and was more than delighted to take him up on his offer. I was especially pleased to see that we were having pizza. Having been born to a Muggle dad, he had introduced me to all sorts of interesting foods that I'd never tried before. We spent most of the meal discussing what prank we could pull on James and Peter to celebrate our first day as seventh-years. We both thought it'd be amusing to charm their blankets so that they'd turn into Snitches in the middle of the night.

It wasn't until we were more than halfway through our meal that I even mentioned my parents. Even then, it wasn't to elaborate on what had happened the previous night. "Sometimes…I wish I had been born into a different family." 'Sometimes' was an understatement. 'Most of the time' was far more accurate.

Remus met my eyes from across the table and after a few moments of silent contemplation said, "Sirius, you wouldn't be you."

I didn't think he meant to continue but he did.

"Everything in our lives, every experience that we have, everything that we do, every person that we meet, has an effect on us…changes us in some way. If you hadn't been born a Black, you would be a completely different person," he paused long enough to take a drink of water. "Has your life truly been so horrible that you would give up who you are to change it?"

I lowered my eyes from the intensity of his questioning gaze. This was obviously something he had spent a great deal of time considering, not in relation to me but in relation to himself. Would he change what he was if it meant being someone entirely different? Judging by his words and tone, he obviously wouldn't, which surprised me.

He was a werewolf. Every single month for the rest of his life he was doomed to bear the unimaginable pain and madness of turning into a wolf. How could he not wish to go back to the night he had been turned and stop what had happened? I didn't understand. He _didn't_, though. At least not anymore. Assuredly, for many years he must have. I would say that he had probably wished it for at least the first few years at Hogwarts. Somehow, for some reason, he had reconsidered.

He wouldn't change it. His life had been so much more difficult than mine but he wouldn't change it.

It made me wonder.

He _did_ have a point… If I had had a different family – parents and a brother that had actually loved me – would I have met James? Remus? Peter? Even if I had, would we have become the friends we were today? Last night I had realized that _they_ were my family, that I would die for them and they for me… If not being a Black meant losing them, would it really be worth it?

When I thought about it that way…no. No, it wouldn't. So maybe…maybe it wasn't so bad after all. Being a Black. No, it was still horrible, still horrible to know I was related to them and similar to them in so many ways, but it was…better. It was easier to think about and tolerate, if not accept.

Looking back at Remus, I found myself still under the scrutiny of a very piercing gaze. Not having the words to answer his question and what it had caused me to realize, I simply nodded once. After a moment, my friend returned the movement.

We ate the rest of our meal in silence.

"Do you want ice cream for dessert?" he asked after I had finished my fourth piece of pizza and he his second.

"What kind do you have?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"Cookies and cream," he grinned.

As always. "Sure."

I walked back into the kitchen with Remus and watched as he served us both generous helpings of his favorite flavor of ice cream. When he handed me my bowl and spoon I thanked him but didn't start eating. Instead, I set the items down on the counter and spontaneously stated, "We're okay now." It wasn't a question and I wasn't even sure why I had said it. Maybe I just needed to acknowledge it in more than the silence of my own mind.

Remus looked up from his ice cream, which he had already started devouring, and peered at me curiously. Then he smiled, a small, genuine smile that reached his eyes. "You've only just realized?"

I didn't respond. 'No' would be too complicated to explain and 'yes' would be a lie.

His smile faded but the light in his eyes remained. "Yeah," he agreed and then added, after a few minutes of silence, "Yeah, we're okay now." Setting aside his ice cream, he pressed his hand to my shoulder and repeated, "We're okay now." Maybe it was simply to reassure me, maybe he saw an uncertainty in me that I didn't yet feel, but whatever the reason, I appreciated the gesture.

Silence filled the room as we each ate our ice cream. After helping Moony clean and put away the dishes, I rubbed my hands together and asked if he had any plans for the rest of the day.

"None that I'm aware of." He eyed me suspiciously, as if expecting me to unleash some elaborate scheme that, if discovered, would get us both expelled from Hogwarts.

"Good," I said. "Good. Let's go then."

"Go?" he repeated questioningly.

"Yeah. To my flat. Pack enough stuff for the rest of the week."

"You want me to run away with you?" Remus teased.

I answered in complete seriousness. "I don't want you to spend this full moon in that dreadful cage of your dad's. My flat has a basement. It's about the same size as that room in the Shrieking Shack. Enough room for me to be Padfoot with you."

The smile slipped from his lips as his eyes grew solemn. "Sirius, that's–" he broke off, clearly uncertain of what to say. In the end, he didn't say thank you but, of course, he didn't have to. I knew how much this meant to him. If possible, he hated the cage more than the Shack. "All right. I'll be ready in a few minutes."

* * *

Years of observing Remus' transformations had taught me that though they were all excruciatingly painful, they varied in just how searing the agony was. Sometimes he could endure them without sound or protest; sometimes he whimpered or even screamed. I had learned that this had nothing to do with whether he was to be confined in a cage or run free through the forest. There also seemed to be no link between his mood or physical condition and the level of pain he experienced. Honestly, it just depended. 

Tonight's full moon was better than some but worse than most. The first transformation was particularly drawn out and tortuous. If Remus' uncontrollable screams hadn't been enough to inform me of that, the wolf's uncharacteristically subdued manner would have made it obvious. So, even though Moony hardly injured himself throughout the entire seven hours that the full moon shone, I was not surprised when my friend took longer than usual to come out of his post-transformation daze.

Normally, he would be oblivious to his surroundings for a good three to five minutes. He had been crouching in a corner of my basement for nearly twice that time before I decided it would be best to move him. Gently, so as not to aggravate his tender muscles, I lifted and carried him into my bedroom. There, headless of the blood that would trickle onto the sheets, I placed him on my bed.

Then I applied the salve Madam Pomfrey had given him to his various wounds and performed the limited healing charms I knew. Conscious of the fact that he was naked and that it was a bit chilly in my flat, I drew the covers over his body. Seeing that his eyes remained glazed and unfocused, I treated my own injuries and sat next to him on the bed. I wasn't worried yet. The longest this stunned state had lasted was nearly an hour, after the most brutal full moon I had ever seen him endure. It was one that I didn't care to remember, one that had had him not only screaming but also crying as the spasms of pain had torn apart his body.

Sighing softly, I placed my hand in his hair and rested it there.

As I waited for Remus to regain total awareness, I was struck by how completely vulnerable he was at the moment. He had no physical or emotional defenses in this state. None at all. That I could have used his condition as a weapon against Snape, treating him as nothing more than a means to an end, was nearly inconceivable to me now. That I had acted so thoughtlessly, with so little consideration for one of my closest friends, was a guilt I would always carry, a regret I would always feel, but at the same time… Remus' words filtered through my mind.

_"Everything in our lives, every experience that we have, everything that we do, every person that we meet, has an effect on us…changes us in some way."_

The Prank had changed me. It was undeniable. I was more responsible now, more considerate. A better person, maybe. Maybe even a better friend. It was another event in my life – a bad one that had had some terrible consequences and some good ones. Just as James' friendship had, by making me realize the vileness of my parents' beliefs but also by alienating me from them.

Remus had changed me too. Being his friend, knowing the struggles he constantly faced, had changed me. It had made me take life more seriously, realize the darkness and unfairness that filled this world. And the Prank… It was an event that was perhaps one of the worst mistakes I had ever made. One I would never forget. Though Remus had forgiven and learned to trust me again, though I had forgiven myself, I would bear the guilt of my betrayal for as long as I lived. However, if I was fortunate enough to have Remus' friendship for just as long, it didn't seem like such a terrible burden.

Remus stirred and blinked a couple of times until his eyes focused. Meeting my gaze, he smiled tiredly.

I returned the smile.

No. If Remus was my friend, it didn't seem like such a burden at all.

THE END


End file.
